


Oh No He's Hot

by ashmandalc



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, just a silly little thing i wanted to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashmandalc/pseuds/ashmandalc
Summary: Fun little prompt i saw on a post.“i came to the gym to work out but holy god i can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot” au





	Oh No He's Hot

Having been coming to this gym for ages, Fiona knows the people who frequent it. She’s nearly on a first name basis with all the staff, and can practically stand in as help if they’re understaffed. They’re like her family. They know her sister, they know the man that adopted them both, they know her job at the theater company. They know her work hours change depending on her schedule.

This skinny man, however, always comes in after her, glasses high on his nose, sweater vest buttoned over an oxford with the sleeves rolled up; his slacks are black and pressed, brown leather shoes with just a couple of scuffs. He’s an unknown. She doesn’t know his name. She doesn’t know what he does. She knows nothing, and he’s always coming when she’s leaving to get ready to go home for the day.

Fiona knows all types come to gyms for all kinds of reasons, none of which are particularly her business. She knows this. That doesn’t stop her from wondering what he’s doing while he’s here. Does he kickbox? Lift weights? Yoga? He doesn’t bring his own mat, but maybe he borrows one from the instructors? Maybe he’s a treadmill walker.

She removes her hat, placing it in her gym bag, before lifting the clunky old helmet she’s owned for years. It’d been a gift from Felix when she turned 20, to go along with the keys to the old bike they’d worked on for months. She drops her bag into the sidecar attached to the bike, freeing up her hand to reach into her pocket for her keys. The engine gives low, rolling rumbles as it idles while she tightens the chin strap one more time, and then she’s off.

It’s another week before Fiona sees him in passing once again. This time, he has a watch, and a bowtie that she doesn’t recall seeing before. (Everyone tells her her memory and observation skills are uncanny, usually said with a glare and maybe a sneer. She takes that to mean they’re really, really good.) He steps to the side and waits for her to pass through the automatic doors, with a smile and a nod to greet her. Fiona gives a small smile of her own, and a nod of her head, before she’s back to watching the parking lot. When she gets to her motorcycle this time, she turns to look back, but he’s already through and must be near the locker rooms by now. She furrows her brow and wonders if she’ll ever properly meet him. She shrugs, placing her helmet on, and her bag in the sidecar. She is homebound once more.

A month goes by of these casual not-meetings. He seems friendly enough. He always has a smile for her, so she in turn gives one back, but they still have yet to speak.

She wonders, absently, if he wonders about her as much as she seems to wonder about him.

She also wonders if she’s being even just a little bit creepy.

He’s not even that much of an eyecatcher, if she’s honest. He’s not a stereotypically handsome man, but there’s some kind of draw. He has a type of mystery she’s hard pressed to turn away from. A certain openness shows on his face that she’s not seen in these parts in years.

He’s a bit refreshing, she decides.

Her sister Sasha calls her one day; tells her a show is being scheduled, and all hands are needed on deck to prepare the set pieces. Fiona answers immediately to the call, and is later than she likes to be when arriving to the gym after work. Her bag left behind in her locker, Fiona makes her way out, stopping on a set of mats to start her stretches. Fiona sets her water bottle to the side, and begins with her arms. From the corner of her eye, she sees a form in a gray tank walk past. 

She pays the person no mind, continuing her stretches with her torso and neck. It’s when she rotates her neck one final time, and opens her eyes again, she nearly chokes.

The man she meets at the door has dropped on the ground, and started counting push ups, and she hates that she can’t lie to herself as she starts stretching her legs: He’s...intriguing to watch. 

Fiona had thought for sure he’d have noodles for arms, but she’s trying to be honest with herself when she says to herself, _“He’s...he’s kinda muscley. In a weird way.”_ She averts her eyes because she knows if the staff members caught her staring, she’d never live it down. Fiona moves from the mat to the mirrored wall in the back, focusing on her form while she warmed up with lunges. The next time she braves looking up, he’s counting squats, and she catches his eyes as they dart away from her. Huffing out a breath, she gets on the ground to do pushups instead. She keeps her legs straight and begins counting.

She also loses said count when she looks up not too long after and sees him wiping the sweat off his face with the bottom of his tank.

“H-holy shit,” she mutters, eyes taking in the surprisingly well chiseled sight before her. Fiona catches herself and starts her counting at 15 although she’s pretty sure she was 28 the last she remembered. Her face feels hot, and she’s not entirely sure it’s from the workout, but that’s a thought she’s not willing to entertain. She doesn’t even know this guy, and honestly she just feels creepy at this point. She finishes her count before deciding she needs to switch her exercises, and moves to the weight benches along the far wall.

_The poor man is just trying to workout, and you’re being gross, Fi, _Sasha’s voice tells her. Fiona agrees and chooses to keep away from him so he can spend his gym time in peace.

She spends the rest of the hour playing songs in her head, bobbing her head along when able. When her timer sounds she finishes the set she’s on then moves along to do her cool down stretches. She showers and changes quickly after, pinning her damp bangs back, grabs her things, and head out to her bike once more. She takes notice that her mystery man has left already, or he’s in the locker room preparing to leave. Either way. He’s done for the night, as she is.

Her helmet in place, she’s on her way home again, and she’s determined to put him from her mind. She doesn’t even know him, and this is getting more than a bit ridiculous now.

Two days later, and she’s back at her later hour, and he’s there stretching just a few feet to her left. She is pointedly looking at anything but him as she stretches, too, crossing one arm over her chest, then the other.

Of course her eyes betray her for one split second, but that second is enough to catch him stretching his arms up. The movement is enough to pull the bottom of the fabric up, and she can see a trail of dark hair below his navel. She holds her breath and turns her back to him, rotating her neck. Giving herself a few moments, she releases her breath and walks to the treadmills, taking a small sip of water before starting.

The night is quiet as people come and go. She nods to a few she knows, says hello when they speak to her, but for the most part she stays in her space on her own.

After 15 minutes are up, she starts to move toward the free weights before she feels a tap on her arm. With a jump, she turns, expecting to see an old family friend or a staff member. Instead she’s met with bright blue eyes and a frown.

“I-I wanted to apologize.”

He looks to his feet and shifts his weight around. His hands are clasped together in front of them, and Fiona can see his chest rise and fall with his anxious breaths.

“I just...I’m not…” He sighs, and she watches his shoulder fall.

“You’re _really_ pretty, and the other day I wanted to talk to you, but...I think, instead, I just made you feel uncomfortable, and I wanted to apologize for that. I promise I didn’t mean to make you feel...I don’t know, like you couldn’t do what you wanted here.”

Fiona takes a moment to blink before she understands what he’s saying.

“Wait. So the other day wasn’t just...random? The...push ups, and the squats, and the shirt thing…?”

She watches his face turn red as he looks away.

“Yeah, no I...wait. What shirt thing?”

Her eyes widen as she realizes her mistake. She waves her hand to clear the air.

“It’s nothing, dude. Just...nothing. So...were you trying to show off?”

He shrugs.

“My friend, Yvette, said to buy you lunch, but just because I won her over by buying her lunch doesn’t mean it’d work for everyone. My friend, Rhys, said girls love seeing guys workout. The fact the he said that at all should have been my first clue to _not_ do the thing.”

Fiona lightly punches his arm.

“I don’t know, man. You’re talking to me now, aren’t you?”

The smile he gives is short and sweet.

“Well, yeah, but...it’s not _quite_ what I’d had in mind.”

Fiona steps a little closer into his space.

“And uh...what’d you have in mind?” The grin across her lips is positively sinful, and seeing it causes the redness in his face to spread to his ears.

“Y-you’re really pretty and I’d be happy to buy you dinner, but if you’d rather I’ll settle for your name.”

Fiona leans back, thinking and watching him stew in his own worry for a few moments. He keeps chewing on his lower lip and straightening his glasses. She leans forward, holding up one hand, and counts off as she starts speaking.

“I’ll do you one better. You can have my name, my number, _and_ buy me dinner. But first I want: Your name-”

“Vaughn.”

“Where you wor-”

“Hyperion Corporation, accounting department.”

“Where you live?”

“Granite Hill, apartment 206.”

“And a time you want food.”

“Whenever you want, miss…?”

“Fiona. And after we’re done here tonight. If I think things go well enough, you’ll get that number. How’s that?”

His breath leaves him in shuddering jerks.

“That’s...perfect.”

She grins and turns to walk to the free weights, hearing his hissing and excited jumping. Turning to look over her shoulder, she notices how quickly his arms drop then move to straighten his glasses once more. He clears his throat.

“...Wh-what?”

She chuckles and shakes her head, shooting him a wink. The way his eyes brighten, and his smile shines is something she thinks she likes enough to try again. She contemplates telling him about the shirt thing, but decides she’d rather keep hold of some form of dignity. No need for the man--Vaughn, to know she thought so much about him.

She spends the rest of the evening peeking out at him from behind her hair, making sure to toss a wink or grin at him when she catches him watching her. These usually cause him to lose count of whatever he’s doing, so he gives up and moves on to something else. It’s addicting, this kind of power she holds. It’s when she’s cooling down on the mats (so she wanted to show off too; sue her), she sees him remove his glasses with one hand, and lift the bottom hem of his shirt with the other to wipe at his face. She gets a clearer look this time, but isn’t quick enough to look away. He’s squinting at her, but he quickly looks down. A toothy grin slow draws across his face, and she feels doomed.

She turns to hide in the locker room, but his hand around her wrist stops her. She refuses to give in and look at the smug bastard.

“So...shirt thing?”

She huffs and grunts, tugging her wrist away.

“Shut up.”


End file.
